


The Scorpion and the Frog

by BlueOatmeal



Category: Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Traits, Artistic License, Asphyxiation, Blood and Injury, Burns, Child Neglect, Death, Developing Friendships, First Aid, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Malnutrition, Morbid, Not Really Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starvation, Travel, Weird Biology, artistic license biology, breach of personal security, chemical burns, eating of sapient beings, food insecurity, implied infanticide, implied matricide, nobody dies i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueOatmeal/pseuds/BlueOatmeal
Summary: Kipo and her friends—and Jamack—are racing to find her birth-burrow before Scarlemagne or the mute gangs findthem.Can the two least trusting members of the group put their lives in each others' hands? Or will they give in to their nature and doom the whole pack?
Relationships: Jamack & Kipo Oak, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 177





	1. Foreshadowing

Cappuccino had drawn up directions to the burrow where Kipo had been born, and Kipo and her friends—and Jamack—were racing to find it before Scarlemagne or the mute gangs found _them_.

Benson craned his neck upwards. “How’s it look?” he shouted.

From the top of a cell tower, Jamack shouted back. “There’s a mountain on one side, and cliffs on the other.”

Wolf scaled the last section of beams and joined Jamack at the top. “Can’t see any megamutes, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

“The cliffs remind me of the walls at Clover One,” Kipo chirped from a crossbar below them. She hung upsidedown from her knees. “Only a lot taller.”

“Well which way are _we_ going?” Dave shouted.

Wolf committed the landscape to memory and began her descent. “Mountain. The cliffs are too steep to climb.”

Kipo glanced at her as she passed and pulled herself upright. “Sounds good. What’s the white stuff all over it? Sand?”

“Snow,” Wolf and Jamack answered at the same time. Wolf shot him a glare as he continued.

“A collection of tiny crystals made of ice. Which means it’s cold enough up there to freeze.”

Kipo snorted. “I know what _ice_ is.” She climbed around to a beam she could slide down.

Jamack stepped off his perch and landed on a crossbar halfway down the tower. “I meant freeze as in ‘freeze to death.’”

Kipo gave him an alarmed look as she slid by and called down to the ground. “Wolf?”

Wolf jumped off the tower and landed in the wildflowers that skirted its base. “Only if we’re careless. We’ll need to prepare before we start our hike.”

Benson gestured back the way they came with his thumb. “The suburbs should have some coats, and some canned stuff we can take with us.” His eyes lit up. “And we can make a sled for the other side!”

Wolf nodded. “We’ll start there.”

Kipo landed and joined them. “What else do we need?”

“A pot,” Dave said. “You have to make your own drinking water.”

“Taking the cliffs would be a lot simpler,” Jamack said, pushing aside a giant flower.

Wolf frowned. “Do you know an easier way up? Something less steep?”

He shook his head. “No, not that. Even if I did, we don’t need an alternate path; we can go directly over the cliffs.”

Kipo put her hands up. “Look, I know I said I can climb, but I usually have equipment, and my mute powers are still unreliable.”

Jamack rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s asking you to climb anything. The only thing needed for this plan is for you all to trust me.”

“Okay,” Kipo said immediately.

Wolf made a face.

Benson exchanged looks with Dave and Mandu. Dave shrugged. “To do what, exactly?”

“Carry you up the cliffs,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“No,” Wolf said.

He crossed his arms. “If you insist, I can fix a rope to the top of each ledge so you can climb up on your own. It’ll just take longer.”

“I won’t leave the Deathstalker tail behind,” she warned.

Jamack blinked at her in confusion. “Why _would_ you?”

Her expression loosened, then she squinted. “What’s in it for you?”

He scowled. “I can’t cross the mountains. If you go that way, I’ll have to leave you.”

“Oh, right,” Dave piped up. “Yeah, some mutes don’t do so hot when it’s that cold,” he explained to Kipo. “You’re fine because you’re a toasty lil’ mammal. Jamack’s cold-blooded.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about _you?”_

Dave shrugged. “Natural antifreeze.”

Jamack gave him a flat look. “Of course.”

Kipo pursed her lips. “Theoretically I know what cold-blooded means, but uhhh. What does it mean in this situation? I’m a little lost.”

Jamack gestured vaguely. “I’m always the same temperature as the surroundings. If the temperature drops to freezing, so do I. Water becomes ice, my blood freezes solid, and my heart stops for good.” He shrugged. “That’s just how it is for most non-mammals.”

Kipo shuddered and hugged herself, aghast. “That’s terrible!”

“So don’t come with us,” Wolf said, drawing everyone’s attention. “The mountain is faster and we can all _walk_ on our _own_ , without putting our lives in _his_ _hands.”_

“Thanks for the _vote_ of _confidence,”_ Jamack said, mimicking her emphasis.

Benson gave a small wave and stepped forward. “Taking the cliffs _would_ save us from having to prepare so much. And I don’t know about you, but survival stats aside, I don’t _like_ being cold.” He paused. “And we can still get _hurt_ from freezing. We’d need boots, and you don’t even have shoes! You want to keep your toes, don’t you?”

Wolf shuffled her feet, curling her toes. “We can _find_ boots. And anything else we need.”

Kipo’s gaze swung between them. She put her hands up. “We don’t need to debate this. We’re not leaving anyone behind. The mountains aren’t an option anymore, now that we know that taking them would get one of us killed.”

Wolf gestured sharply at Jamack. “Nobody’s _forcing_ him to climb the mountain. He can just leave!”

“And what, take on the rest of the mutes by himself? Take on Scarlemagne?” Kipo asked. “No matter what _he_ does, if we take the mountain, we’re betraying him.”

Wolf stood still, glaring thoughtfully at the ground.

Jamack remained quiet, studying the two of them.

“He’s already been abandoned by one pack,” Kipo said hesitantly. She glanced at Jamack, who’d reached for his tie instinctively, then tried to play off the motion by fixing his collar. “He’s not being abandoned by this one.”

Wolf straightened her back and took a slow breath, briefly closing her eyes. She looked up at Kipo. “Alright.”

Kipo beamed and grabbed her in a hug. “Thanks for trusting me, Wolf.”

Wolf cracked a smile. “Yeah.” Behind Kipo’s back, she pointed at her eyes, then to Jamack, as if to say, ‘I’m watching you; and if you betray Kipo’s trust, you’re going to _wish_ you froze to death.’

Jamack raised his palms and shook his head.

Wolf gave him a curt nod.

Benson exchanged bemused looks with Dave and Mandu.


	2. Sunrise

Dave stared up, and up, and up. His mouth quirked to the side. “You sure about this?”

Jamack glanced up from the vine he’d been weaving into a rope. He narrowed his eyes. “Of course.”

“I mean, I can’t even see the top.”

“We won’t scale the whole thing in one go,” Kipo said, kicking dry leaves into a mound. “There are a few ledges big enough to camp on.” She burrowed into the pile and giggled, looking quite pleased with her makeshift bed.

Mandu dug in next to her and snuggled up to her side. Kipo hugged her and grinned at the others.

Benson pulled a huge fuzzy Lamb’s Ear leaf over himself and yawned. “We’ll be fine, Dave. Can’t be much harder than Skyscraper Ridge.”

Wolf had managed to string up an identical leaf between two tree trunks, and she climbed into the hammock without a sound.

“Yeah,” Dave agreed doubtfully.

Jamack put aside the rope and sat back against a tree stump.

* * *

Benson was up first. He kicked the leaf off and sat up with a yawn. He stood and put on his hat. He rubbed his hands together and then stuck them under his armpits. He looked up through the canopy at a bunch of fast-moving clouds. “Maybe don’t storm, please?” he muttered.

Wolf stretched and peeked over the edge of her hammock. “Who are you talking to?”

“The sky,” he said, still staring up at it.

She gave him a disapproving look as she climbed out of the hammock and stretched again. “Uh-huh.”

Benson walked over to Dave and nudged him with his foot. “Good morning!”

Wolf shushed him.

He rolled his eyes.

Dave pushed his shoe away and rolled over to bury his face in the ground. “Just five more hours.”

Benson snorted. “It’s sunrise! Get up!”

He groaned but slowly pushed himself up. He groomed his antennae and brushed the dirt from himself, then walked over to Kipo and Mandu. He took a leaf and brushed it across Kipo’s face.

He snickered as her face contorted, but his grin dropped when she sneezed right into his face. He stumbled backwards, wiping at his face. “Augh! Gross! Blech!”

Kipo got up on an elbow and wiped her nose on her arm. She looked around, bewildered and a little drowsy. “Huh? Wha’s happen?”

Mandu shook the leaves off and trotted over to Wolf, who had covered her mouth but was most definitely smiling under there.

Dave shook out his hands with a grimace but burst out laughing at Kipo’s dazed expression. “Morning!” he said between snickers.

She squinted and smirked. “What did you do?” she accused.

Dave explained. Kipo was laughing at his exaggerated description of her face when Benson raised his voice.

“Uh, guys?”

They all looked over.

He raised his palms with a nervous grin. “Now, don’t freak out, but uh.” He pointed both index fingers at Jamack, who was slouched against the tree stump beside him. “He’s not waking up.”

Kipo was on her feet in an instant.

Wolf winced and followed her over, tightly clutching her staff.

Benson stepped between Jamack and Kipo, hands raised again. “I thought about letting him sleep in, because I know he stays up to keep watch sometimes, but it seemed weird that all the noise didn’t wake him up already, so I tried—just kinda kicked his foot at first, you know, but that didn’t do it and I know he doesn’t like being touched without warning but I shook his shoulder and _that_ didn’t work and—“ He grabbed Kipo’s arms when she reached over to shake Jamack. “Don’t—I tried that too, it doesn’t—“ He took a quick breath. “Look, I even—“ He patted at his own cheek to demonstrate. “And—and nothing!”

Kipo gave him an intense look. “Is he breathing?”

He opened his mouth and then his eyes widened. “I didn’t—“

They both jumped at a sharp noise and turned to see Wolf, who’d just backhanded Jamack across the face. She waited a second, then gave them both a grave look. “I think he’s dead.”

Kipo inhaled sharply and kneeled in front of Jamack. “One thing at a time,” she muttered to herself. She held her palm close to his nostrils. After a few tense seconds she let out the breath she’d been holding. “Not getting anything,” she reported.

The rest of them had crowded around her, watching nervously. Benson looked on the verge of panic, wringing his hands. Wolf chewed her lip. Dave rested one hand on Mandu’s head and frowned. He kept looking away, as if some thought was distracting him.

Kipo pulled his hand from his lap and searched for a pulse. When the standard human pulse points there yielded no results, she started poking at his neck. Nothing. She growled in frustration and grabbed his other hand.

Benson cleared his throat. “How… do you think, he uh.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, he _looks_ fine. D’you think he like—“ He winced and hugged himself. “Had a stroke or something?” he said in a small voice. “Like, it can happen. Y’know?”

“Maybe,” Wolf said quietly, when nobody else responded.

Kipo paused and pressed the back of her hand against Jamack’s neck. “I know he’s always kinda chilly, but he’s… he’s really cold right now. Like _really_ cold.”

Wolf sighed. “That does tend to happen. To things. When they die. And we don’t know _when…”_

Kipo shook her head. She reached for his face. “Sorry Jamack,” she muttered, grimacing. She gently pulled his eyelids apart—and to her surprise found a third, translucent eyelid, through which she could see his eyeball. She waved her hand in front of it, but he didn’t react.

She let go and stood up straight. She ran her hands through her hair, then leaned down and screamed, “Jamack! Wake up!”

Wolf tensed and quickly scanned their surroundings, but said nothing.

Benson stepped closer. “Kipo…”

She whirled around, but couldn’t quite make eye contact with him. She scowled at the ground. “No.”

Mandu made a small sad noise.

Dave suddenly gasped. “Oh! That! Oh no, guys, he’s fine, I totally forgot—“ He pushed between them and started to undo Jamack’s tie. “I mean, he _should_ be fine, I’ve just gotta check to be sure—I’m so sorry, I completely forgot until just now— _boy_ this is awkward.”

Kipo stared at him, blinking rapidly. Her voice wavered a bit. “You mean, he’s not…?”

“Nope!” Dave said, unbuttoning the top few buttons of Jamack’s shirt. “Pretty sure, anyway. Just be quiet for a second, I gotta listen real close.”

Wolf and Benson stood on either side of Kipo, just shy of rubbing shoulders. Mandu leaned against Benson’s leg and gave a concerned snuffle.

Kipo swallowed. “Dave, you can’t get a pulse there. Everything’s tucked under the ribs, you can’t—“

Dave glanced up. “Actually he’s only got ribs in the back, they don’t go the whole way around like yours.”

Kipo’s eyes widened. “Oh! Uh, go ahead then, I guess. I’ll, uh, stop talking.”

Dave pulled the top of Jamack’s shirt open and leaned in to press his antennae to his chest.

His audience went still, not daring to make a sound.

The seconds dragged into a full minute, and it seemed like forever before Dave broke the silence.

“Yeah, he’s alive.” He backed off.

The rest of them sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness,” Kipo said, dragging her hands down her face.

Wolf furrowed her brows. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dave said, waving dismissively. “He’s just in a light hibernation state. I guess it was just a little too chilly last night, and it tripped his winter protocols.”

“But it didn’t freeze,” Benson said. “It was just a cold front.”

“Uh, and why exactly couldn’t I find a pulse?” Kipo asked, glancing between Dave and Jamack.

Dave waved his hands. “It’s a whole big complicated thing, but basically: the body reacts involuntarily _before_ it gets to freezing, like how you guys shiver. It doesn’t have to be freezing for that, but it’s gotta be kinda cold, right? Colder than whatever you think is a comfortable temperature.”

He shrugged. “Hibernation is kinda like a really deep sleep. Sort of. And one of the common hibernation things is that the heart slows down, like, a _lot._ You probably couldn’t find it because you were looking for something waaaaay faster.” He put his hands up. “I don’t know why that happens, I just know it does, and it helps somehow.”

Kipo nodded thoughtfully. “And the breathing?”

Dave blinked. “No idea.”

She grimaced. “Ohh-kay.”

“He’s definitely alive though.”

Wolf tilted her head. “How do we get him to wake up?”

Dave scratched his head. “Pretty sure you’ve just gotta wait until it gets warmer. The sun’s up now, so he should come out of it pretty soon, I think.”

“Oh, good!” Kipo plunked herself down on the ground. Mandu settled next to her.

Wolf raised an eyebrow at her, and when Kipo just smiled back, she huffed and grabbed Kipo under the arms and dragged her backwards, away from Jamack.

Kipo squawked and flailed out of her grip.

Wolf stepped in front of her and put a hand on her hip. “You are _not_ going to just sit there and watch him. First of all, that’s creepy. Second, you don’t get so close to someone sleeping unless you want to get punched when they wake up.”

“What?”

Wolf turned to the others. “You too Benson, Dave, Mandu. I want all of you at least a car and a half away from him. And in one spot; he won’t like being surrounded.”

They walked over, not quite following her logic but willing to take Wolf’s advice.

Kipo gave her a baffled look. “But it’s nice to have people around when you wake up.”

Wolf shook her head. “On the surface, if something sneaks up on you while you sleep, it’s trying to kill you. You don’t want to come _out_ of that defenseless state with a bunch of potential threats within striking distance and cutting off your escape routes.”

Kipo glanced at Jamack, then back to Wolf. Her surprise softened to concern. “Okay.”

Mandu unzipped Benson’s backpack where he’d left it on the forest floor. She dug through it and pulled out a small wallet with her mouth and brought it to where the humans and Dave had gathered.

Benson took the offered wallet. “Ooh, good idea!” He opened it and shook out a mismatched deck of cards. “Who wants to play Go Fish?”

* * *

Jamack awoke quietly and stretched, fully extending his arms and legs. He rubbed his face and opened his eyes.

It was much brighter than he’d expected. He frowned blearily at the others, gathered several paces away and engrossed in a card game. “Hey. Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

Everyone but Wolf startled and whirled around.

Kipo beamed. “You’re up!” She made to get up, but Wolf grabbed her wrist and subtly shook her head. Kipo reluctantly sat back down.

Jamack raised an eyebrow. “We agreed on sunrise, didn’t we?” He stood and reached for his collar out of habit to straighten what was left of his tie, but found only bare skin. His eyes widened and he frantically pulled at his clothes to get a good look at the situation. His tie was _completely_ undone and the top half of his shirt had been unbuttoned. He glanced momentarily at the others and in a split second he’d hopped high up into the nearest tree.

“Oops,” Dave said.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?” Jamack shrieked at them. He was squatting on a sturdy branch and bunching up the top of his shirt with one hand.

“We thought you were dead!” Kipo hollered, once again gently restrained by Wolf, who’d let her at least stand up this time.

“What!?” he said, his voice pitching even higher.

“I forgot to button that back up,” Dave said. “Sorry.”

 _“What?”_ he hissed. He pulled his shirt away to check for anything amiss. As he was examining himself his eyes kept flicking back up to track the others. “What did you do!?”

Benson put his palms out, still seated, and spoke rapidly. “We had to find your heartbeat because we thought you were dead because you weren’t waking up and Dave says you were hibernating.”

“Hibernating!? It’s August! Why on Earth would you—wait hang on, what do you mean I wasn’t waking up?” The second half was quieter, but equally terse and incredulous.

Benson took a deep breath. “We all got up at sunrise, and you didn’t wake up on your own like usual so I tried waking you up. Talking, nudging, shaking; the whole deal. Wolf slapped you and Kipo yelled at you and none of it worked.”

Jamack frowned, but released his death grip on his shirt and started to button it back up.

“And you were _extremely_ cold,” Kipo picked up. “Uh, and you weren’t breathing or moving at all, and I tried really hard to find your pulse but um, I couldn’t, and we really thought you were a hundred percent dead, and it was all pretty terrible.”

Jamack put two fingers to his wrist for a moment, then looked back down. “You couldn’t find it?”

She shook her head.

“Well, she checked all the right places,” Dave said. “And yeah, wasn’t anything she would have been able to recognize as a heartbeat. But then I remembered that weird hibernation state some cold-blooded mutes go into, and that a slow heartbeat was one of the effects. So then I checked your pulse, but I had to listen directly to your heart to even detect it. Again, sorry.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Kinda had to get the clothes out of the way. It was either that or assume you were dead. And hey! You _did_ have a slow heartbeat, so then we knew you were fine and we let you wake up on your own.”

Jamack observed them from his perch. He took his time retying his tie.

“Prove it,” he said at length.

Kipo and Benson looked at each other. “How?” Benson asked.

“It’s true,” Wolf stated gravely.

He focused on her. “Why should I believe you?”

She thought for a second. Then, “You’ll probably get a bruise on your right cheek, next to your eardrum. I slapped you pretty hard. And unless I’m wrong, you didn’t have a bruise there last night. And if you were just sleeping, you definitely would have woken up from that.”

He touched his face and winced almost imperceptivity. “That checks out,” he said slowly.

Kipo jolted. “Oh! I touched your eye too. You had a weird film thing over it? What is that?”

He made a face. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged, ducking her head defensively. “I was trying to see if you were alive or not!”

Jamack sighed. “Alright. There’s no way you would have known about the nictating membrane, so…” His brows furrowed. “You really thought I was dead?”

Kipo frowned and looked away, but nodded.

Benson rubbed the back of his neck.

“For a while, yeah,” Dave admitted.

Mandu nodded seriously.

Wolf raised her eyebrows. “Kipo almost cried.”

“Wolf!” Kipo hissed. She crossed her arms tightly and turned around with a huff. “Besides, it’s normal to cry when someone dies,” she mumbled indignantly.

“Not on the surface,” Jamack and Wolf said in unison.

Wolf cringed. “We’ve got to stop doing that. It’s weird.”

“Agreed,” Jamack said. He dropped down to the ground and finally joined them. He hung back a bit as those seated got up and put away their cards.

Kipo turned back around sheepishly. “Jamack? Could I give you a hug?”

He tensed. “I really would rather you didn’t,” he said. The finality in his voice was like a deadbolt sliding shut on a closed door.

Kipo’s shoulders drooped. “Okay.” She brightened. “What about a handshake?”

Jamack gave a half shrug. “That’s fine.” He formally extended his hand.

Kipo took it stiffly, mimicking his posture, then squeezed it between both hands and shook vigorously. “Nice to meet you; I’m really glad you’re not dead,” she said, sincerity radiating off her. She made direct eye contact to convey just how much she really meant what she’d said.

Jamack frowned, then his expression softened into something more difficult to interpret. He suddenly held his hand in place, effectively stopping Kipo’s mad shaking and throwing her off balance. His lips quirked up. “Thanks. Nice to meet you too.”

Kipo disengaged with a little stumble and grinned knowingly at him.

He rolled his eyes.

Wolf grabbed Kipo’s shoulder to stabilize her and used the motion to step directly in front of her. She gave her a meaningful look.

Kipo’s eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“I need to go take care of something,” Wolf said. “Alone. I’ll be back in four hours. You can start on the cliff if you leave me a rope to catch up.” She paused. “And don’t ask.”

Kipo’s brows furrowed. “If you’re sure…?”

Wolf gave her a self-assured smile. “I’ll be fine.” She squeezed her hands.

Kipo nodded.

Wolf hefted her staff and jogged back into the forest.

“You think she’s setting up traps?” Benson asked.

Kipo shrugged. “I don’t know.” She blew the hair out of her face. “How’s that rope coming along, Jamack?”

“Just need to secure the end so it doesn’t unravel,” he said, picking up the rope and winding it into loops.

“Great. Let us know when you’re ready. I’m gonna scope out the cliff.” She found a spot to stand that gave her a good look at the cliff face.


	3. Conversations in the Dark

“There she is!” Kipo called. She leaned out over the first ledge they’d stopped on, eyes trained on a figure flitting through the trees.

Benson tugged her back. “We should hold the rope, even though it’s pretty secure.”

The two of them and Dave braced themselves against the rock floor and clung to the braided vine that acted as their rope. Mandu stuck her snout over the edge for a look.

Wolf jogged to the base of the cliff and found Jamack leaning against it, his arms crossed.

Whatever he’d planned on saying was forgotten as he caught sight of the large fuzzy bundle draped over her head. “What is _that?”_

Wolf ignored him, craning her neck upwards. “Guys?”

Mandu oinked in greeting and waved her hoof.

Kipo leaned over again. “Hi! We’re holding the rope for you in case the knot comes undone. Come on up! Jamack’ll spot you!” Her head jerked as Benson pulled her back again.

Wolf glanced between the rope in front of her and Jamack, who’d dropped his arms at his sides and was staring incredulously at her new acquisition.

“Did you just go _hunting?”_ he asked. “Seriously; what _is_ that? Why’s it smell like dust?”

She snorted. “More like scavenging. And it’s insurance.” She hefted the object and tossed it at him.

He sidestepped and caught it with one hand. The bundle unrolled and dropped a dozen or so thin shiny objects.

“Are you coming up or not!?” Benson hollered.

“Coming!” Wolf called, and started climbing the rope.

“Wait, what—?” Jamack glanced up at her, but his attention was drawn back to the material in his hand. He pulled it closer, unfolded it and held it up with both hands. He made a small noise of surprise and folded it over his arm to run his free hand over it, inspecting the details. “Where’d you find this?” he asked, almost reverently.

Wolf was already a few meters up the cliff. “Just in some house,” she said. After a few more hand-over-hands, she elaborated. “Figured you’d need a coat if it gets too cold again. Can’t have you sleeping on the job,” she said gruffly.

He ran his fingers over the parka’s fur lining and strong military seams. It took him a second to process her words. He forced a smirk. “Weren’t you listening? I don’t produce body heat. Fur is useless to me; nothing to insulate.”

She chuckled, and he looked up sharply. “Look at those things you dropped.”

He picked up one of the items on the ground. It was a small, oblong plastic-sealed object with a metallic label. It read, ‘Insole Foot Warmers.’ Jamack frowned and read the smaller print on the package.

“They stay warm for _hours,”_ Wolf said, sensing his confusion. “They generate their _own_ heat. Just stick one in one of the inside pockets when you need it.”

He gathered the chemical warmers and began to pack them into the parka’s large pockets. “It shouldn’t get that cold again,” he pointed out.

“It shouldn’t have gotten that cold last night,” she shot back.

He glared up at her. “Still; it’s a little overkill.” That said, he tried the coat on, taking time to appreciate the stylish cut and durable material. It was in excellent condition. And it fit! He turned to face the trees while he fought down a grin, determined not to show how genuinely pleased he was.

Wolf made an exasperated noise, her sight fixed on the ledge above. “Like I said: insurance.”

Jamack looked back up. Wolf had made good progress up the cliff. She didn’t seem to have brought anything else back from her trek.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

* * *

The group sat in a circle around Benson’s open backpack, huddled close as if it was a fire. In reality, there just wasn’t much room to spread out, and Benson had all the snacks.

Jamack was relacing his shoes for the second time since they’d set up camp on the ledge. “Kipo. You seem… _really_ attached to your dad.” He glanced at Benson and Wolf. “Are all humans that close to their parents or is that just you being you?”

Kipo crunched thoughtfully on a salty cracker. “Uhh both? I guess? But like, I’m not a grown-up yet; I kinda need a parent? Theoretically? Like, usually kids our age don’t separate from their parents for like, I dunno, another five to ten years. But also I just love him a lot and we share a lot of interests so I don’t know, both? Yeah.”

Jamack frowned and let the laces go slack. “Y… but you _were_ alone. Well, okay; you were with Wolf, but she’s no older than you.”

Kipo raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, no, I wasn’t supposed to be alone. I was with my dad right before I got washed up to the surface actually. This isn’t normal. For humans.”

He leaned forward, shoes forgotten. “So—you’re not full-grown? I mean you did mention being at a metamorphosis stage but—“

_“What?”_

“’Body changes.’ Those were your words.”

“Oh. Yeah no I’m not—I’m not uhh, switching into the adult stage; I just started the adolescent phase. From childhood. I guess. Lasts pretty long.”

Jamack looked at her as if she’d just croaked. _“You’re_ an adolescent human?”

She blinked. “Yeah? So’s Benson. Wolf is—“ She looked to Wolf.

Wolf violently tore a bite from the fruit in her hand. “I may physically be a child, but I have the experience and maturity of an adult,” she intoned.

Jamack looked between them, baffled and a little unnerved. “I thought… human children were way smaller…”

Kipo snorted. “How old did you _think_ I was?”

He shrugged. “Twenty years? But I’m beginning to rethink that estimate.”

Benson whistled. “Holy crap; dude, you’re _way_ off. Try thirteen.”

“You’re joking,” he said. He looked them all over. Kipo and Benson seemed amused, and Wolf seemed uninterested. Mandu looked clueless, and Dave just gave him an incredulous look. “You’re not joking,” he conceded. He frowned for a few long seconds, clearly processing this, then sat up straight. “None of you should be out here!” he hissed. “How _inept_ are your people that they let their young just—roam around, unsupervised, before you’re even prepared to be on your own!?”

Kipo inhaled sharply and turned around, snagging Benson’s headset and cranking the volume.

Benson shot Jamack an irritated look.

Wolf stared into the distant clouds, streaked pink and orange in the dying light. _“I_ orphaned _myself._ Make of that what you will.”

Benson crossed his arms. “They _don’t_. We’re the exceptions, whose parents didn’t have a choice.” He resisted the urge to glance at Wolf for confirmation. “We’re _not_ supposed to be out here alone, but there aren’t exactly a bunch of adult humans on the surface looking to adopt. I was lucky enough to meet Dave. Who’s _usually_ an adult.” He gave a long sigh. “What’s the big deal, anyway? This doesn’t change anything, does it?”

Jamack was silent for a long time. The sun slipped down past the horizon.

Kipo glanced over her shoulder and pulled one speaker from her ear.

“No,” he said, finally. “It does explain some things. But no.”

Dave squinted at him. “Don’t frogs leave their kids to fend for themselves?”

“No!” Jamack said indignantly. “Of course not! They’re confined to the pond until they’re nearly adults!”

“Do you supervise them?”

“No,” he scoffed. “Why would we do that? They’re not going anywhere.”

Benson raised an eyebrow. “Do you childproof the whole pond? What if they get hurt?”

Jamack waved a hand dismissively. “They can’t even try to leave until they’ve got all their legs. It’s very secure. But what do you mean, ‘what if they get hurt?’”

“That’s not what childproofing means,” Benson said slowly. “And what do _you_ mean, ‘what do I mean?’ If they get hurt, like, on a rock or something, how do you know if you’re not watching? How do they get your attention so you can help them?”

Jamack gave him a baffled look. “What?”

Benson’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Told you,” Dave said.

Jamack tilted his head. “If you get hurt on a rock, you don’t _get_ help. That’s your own fault. If you’re dumb enough to get hurt on a stationery object…” He shrugged.

“What does _that_ mean?” Wolf asked, her expression darkening.

He sighed. “Can _none_ of you read between the lines?” He shook his head. “It means you get an infection, and you die. Obviously.”

Kipo turned around slowly, eyes wide.

Benson gaped. “And the adults just _let_ that happen?”

“Yes?” He glanced between them. “W-what? What did I say?”

Benson took a deep breath and held his hands together. “Are there predators in the pond?”

“Of course.”

“That eat tadpoles?”

“And froglets, and adults if they can, yes.”

“Could you kill the predators, or chase them off?”

“Some of them.”

Benson leaned forward. “Then why don’t you _do_ that?”

Jamack blinked. “Why _would_ we do that?”

“So none of your kids die!” Benson hollered.

Jamack’s expression went blank. “How many children do humans have? On average?”

“Biologically? About two or three,” Kipo said. “The higher numbers are around fourteen or so, but that was more common in the past.”

“No, no—“ He waved his hands. “In a lifetime, not a season.”

“That… _is_ how many kids people usually have in a lifetime,” Kipo said slowly.

Jamack stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”

She straightened. “My dad has only ever had one kid, and that’s me.”

Jamack nodded slowly. “Ohhhkay. Clearly we have very different frames of reference for—this.”

“Clearly,” Benson said.

“Well, how many kids can a frog have in a lifetime?” Dave asked.

“Depends, but ballpark estimate? Two hundred thousand.”

“Two hundred… thousand,” Benson repeated dully.

“That’s _so many!”_ Kipo said. “That’s almost a quarter of a million!”

Wolf frowned at the ground, then looked up. “But you can’t feed that many.”

“We can’t,” Jamack agreed. “So only some of them make it to adulthood.”

She sneered. “How do you _choose,_ then?”

“Choose!?” Jamack looked shocked. “We don’t! We don’t interfere unless we absolutely have to; the tadpoles choose who gets to live.” There was just the hint of a sour note in his last statement.

Benson scowled. “That’s disgusting.”

“What do _you_ suggest, then!?” Jamack snarled. “If we help them, too many survive and there’s even less food to go around than normal. If we abandon them entirely, too few survive. We defend the pond, and let nature do the rest. Nothing else _works.”_

“Do you have kids?” Kipo asked softly.

Jamack flinched. “Me?! No,” he said firmly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you know your parents? Do you have siblings?”

“Of course not! And no, I don’t. Not anymore.”

“’Not anymore?’” she repeated.

He shrugged. “They died.” There was an unspoken ‘obviously’ there, the implications of which were possibly more alarming than if he’d just said the word.

 _“All of them!?”_ Benson yelled, his voice pitching up.

Jamack tensed. “Alright, that’s more than enough backstory for one night,” he declared. “It’s someone else’s turn to get grilled.” He hesitated, then pointed at Wolf. “You! What’s your story?”

Kipo grimaced, and Benson shook his head and dragged his finger across his throat. Dave, for once, kept his mouth shut. Mandu glared from Wolf’s lap.

She hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll put it this way, mute. This—” She tugged the ears of her pelt. “Is all that remains of my mother.”

Jamack frowned. His eyes flicked over the very real wolf skin that she wore like a cloak. And the ruthless, mute-hating human child who wore it. “…Huh.”

“End of story,” Wolf said, and quickly shoved a handful of crackers into her mouth.

Kipo frowned at the ground. “Couldn’t you just have less kids?”

Jamack’s eyes widened. “Kipo, I am _not_ going to explain why that doesn’t work; just trust me that _it doesn’t.”_

Kipo threw her hands in the air. “Adults never want to talk about this kind of stuff! I’ve _had_ The Talk! I _know_ how it all works! I’m an in vitro transspecies genetic recombination experiment for Pete’s sake!”

“No, he’s right,” Dave interrupted. “Humans and mutes; with _that,_ it’s not the same. You should really ask your dad instead.”

Benson smirked at Jamack. “I hadn’t pegged you as a prude.”

Jamack picked his laces up and resumed meticulously weaving them through his shoes. “We’re not having this conversation,” he said.

“Fine; we’ll change the topic,” Wolf said. “What is the _deal_ with Brunchington’s serving sizes? You worked there; how is there so much food!?”

His eyes lit up. “It’s actually a _fantastic_ business model; Cappuccino has a monopoly on megatortoise eggs, and basically gets them for _free_. A trapping group gives her two-thirds of their catch in return for the freshest news on migrating mutes. Most plants aren’t too difficult to harvest, but Cappuccino keeps a private garden with spices and seasonings you just can’t _find_ in Las Vistas. And _nobody_ knows where she gets the cheese, but it is _quality_ stuff.”

Dave and Mandu shared a look.

Wolf put her hands up. “So what I’m hearing is that she’s got a steady supply of food. That’s great. But why serve so much for—for information!? She could be doing even better if she just divvied it up properly.”

“That’s what I thought!” He leaned forward. “But it’s just part of an ingenious scheme! There are a few facets.” He counted them out on his fingers as he explained. “First off; she’s the _only_ establishment where you can get so much for so little, and that attracts a _lot_ of business. People love a good deal. Second; for a diverse clientele, she needs to cater to the larger appetites—and that means being able to regularly put together generous plates. For anyone else, then, they just get to pretend that they’re _not_ starving—in the middle of a food _desert!_ It’s such an appealing concept; no _wonder_ Cap does so well.”

Wolf listened attentively. Kipo shot Benson an incredulous look, and he gave her a baffled shrug in return.

Wolf nodded slowly. “I think I can see that.”

“Oh that’s not even the best part,” Jamack said, grinning. “If you don’t finish the meal—and you’d be surprised how often it happens—you can take it home with you! That way nothing gets wasted! _And,_ that way you _can_ make the meal last longer. And you only have to pay once!”

Wolf’s jaw dropped, but then she snapped it shut and sat up straight. “Wait, are you telling me we could have brought those waffles _with_ us!?”

Jamack winced. “Oh, don’t tell me you forgot to ask.” He glared at Dave. “I thought you’d _been_ to Brunchington Beach!”

“I didn’t know you could do _that!”_ he said.

Wolf put her chin in her hand. “I still don’t get the information thing. And she could still do pretty well if she served less, couldn’t she?”

Jamack waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “She’d do alright, but there would be much less reason to go to her instead of her competitors. It’s a gamble, definitely, but it’s payed off and bought her loyal customers; even regulars!” He smirked. “You’d have to be part of _quite_ a few gossip chains to afford _that_ though. As for the price, well. Cappuccino’s realized just how valuable information is. There’s no internet, or postal service, or phones, or any of the stuff humans used to use for collecting and sharing _new_ information.”

Kipo tilted her head. “What about books? Notes?”

Jamack shook his head. “Nobody’s making books, and anyway, too many mutes are illiterate. Spoken word is the best we’ve got right now.”

Mandu snuffled and squealed peevishly.

“Oh, definitely,” Jamack said. “The current system gives a huge advantage to anyone who can pronounce human languages. It’s not meant to be a permanent solution.”

“Information,” Wolf interrupted, gesturing for him to continue.

“Right. Cappuccino gets all the current news, a treasure trove of past events, and a steady stream of _secrets_. Mutes will pay an arm and a leg for good intel. Sometimes a whole body! Most customers don’t realize just how valuable their information is; how much they’re _really_ paying.” He shrugged. “Cap says it’s only fair that she give them the best she’s got in return—and lots of it.”

“Woah,” Benson breathed. “So it’s not just a brunch business, it’s also a—a spy network?”

“No no no no no. No spies.” Jamack raised a finger. “But you’re close. Cappuccino’s an information broker.”

“Oh.” Dave blinked. “That’s why people go to her if—!”

“If they have any difficult questions!” Jamack finished. “Exactly!”

“That’s pretty cool!” Kipo said.

Jamack looked to Wolf.

She hummed. “Alright. So, maybe some snakes are fighting, and one of them has a busted jaw. The first snake visits Brunchington, has some waffles or whatever, pays by giving out their buddy’s weakness.”

“Usually she’ll want something a little more valuable than that,” Jamack interrupted. “If the snake buddy is one of the leaders, _then_ it would be good pay. But yes; continue?”

Wolf shrugged. “Fine, they’re the leader’s girlfriend or something. Later, one of the timbercats is working on some revenge grudge between them and the snakes, and they go to Cappuccino to ask for good snake targets.” She paused. “The cat’s got to share something they know—the best way to frighten a Newton Wolf, maybe—and Cappuccino tells them about the snake with the busted jaw. Is that right?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Wolf nodded appreciatively. “That _is_ pretty smart.”

“See? I told you.” Jamack leaned back smugly.

Wolf rolled her eyes.

Benson yawned and stretched his arms. “I’ll admit I’d never seen brunch before, but personally I think the portions were fine. Just your classic Americana restaurant fare.”

Mandu made a disbelieving snort.

Benson put his hands on his hips. “I read it in a cookbook! It’s true!”

“Don’t believe everything you read,” Jamack advised him. “Besides, it works _because_ it’s excessive.”

“It’s not excessive,” Benson argued. “It looked pretty normal for two meals smashed together.”

“We _did_ go to the same restaurant, didn’t we?” Wolf asked.

Kipo waved her hands for attention. “I think there’s some miscommunication going on. We all have different experiences. Benson, what does normal, not-starving eating look like to you?”

He pointed at her, grinning. “Three meals a day, snacks, and dessert.” He glanced at Wolf. “Every day. And meals—dinner is the biggest meal and it’s maybe like two plates of whatever? At least.”

“What he said,” Dave piped up. “But I like eating whenever I want, not at arbitrary ‘mealtimes.’”

Mandu oinked and pointed a hoof at Dave.

Wolf squinted suspiciously at them, and Jamack almost looked offended.

“Okay; cool!” Kipo said. “For me, uh, in the Burrow, it’s kinda like what Benson said but we don’t have dessert every night.”

“You guys are weird,” Wolf said. “I’d be happy with a full plate a day. Maybe two plates? I don’t know.” She took a second to consider. “I like the idea of two plates a day,” she decided.

Kipo failed to suppress the pained look on her face. “Right.”

Jamack frowned. “I guess that figures, since mammals waste so much energy on body heat.”

Kipo raised an eyebrow. “Your turn.”

 _“Well,”_ he drawled. “There’s no set routine, but either a little bit every other day, or a big meal every week. Or something roughly equivalent to that; I’m not picky. And if you’re lucky, you don’t have to eat at all during the winter!”

Kipo inhaled and pressed her fingertips together. “You did catch the part where I said non-starving, right?”

“Yep.”

Benson put his chin in his hand. “Define ‘a little bit’ and ‘a big meal.’”

Jamack sighed and stared up into the night sky. “How do I put this?” Without looking, he picked his laces back up and finished his work off with a neat bow, double-knotted, the ends of which he tucked under one of the crossed laces, where they couldn’t get in the way. “Something smaller than Mandu would be ‘a little bit,’ and ‘a big meal’… That’d be something like a young hummingbird, or one of the smaller hamsters, or a few spiders.”

Kipo made a face.

“Look, I told you it was a mute eat mute world out there, and I didn’t just mean figuratively,” Jamack snapped.

She put her hands up. “No! I got that! It’s just, still a little new for me.”

“You humans have such strange hangups about food,” he muttered.

Wolf sighed. “Whatever. We get the point. We all have different perspectives.”

Kipo gave her a strained smile. “Yep! We sure do.”

Benson squinted. “Are you telling me you can go a week without food?” he asked Jamack.

“On a decent meal, certainly. But you can go a lot longer with a pinch of amphetamines. Very effective appetite suppressant,” he said. “Pity I don’t have any,” he added under his breath.

Kipo gave him a sad look, and his shoulders hiked up in alarm—which faded when he remembered her exceptional hearing. He gave her a subtle shrug.

“Fetamines,” Benson parroted, feeling out the word. “Is that a kind of cheese?”

Jamack chuckled. “Not even close. And it’s _am_ phetamines.”

“Amphibamines,” Wolf said, almost too quiet to hear.

Despite the volume, she suddenly had five sets of eyes on her.

Jamack burst out laughing. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get in an intelligible word.

Wolf glared, hunching in on herself.

“No, no,” Jamack finally managed, waving a hand. “I’m not laughing _at_ you; that was just a _brilliant_ pun.” His giggles began to die down. “Oh, but what _perfect_ branding that would be.” He shook his head, grinning.

Wolf relaxed and cracked a smile. “If you use that, you’ve gotta pay me royalties.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re _sharp.”_

She shrugged modestly but clearly enjoyed the compliment.


	4. Corrosive

“Stop moving,” Jamack hissed.

Benson froze. “Sorry.”

Jamack clung to the underside of a rock outcropping, and the humans clung to his back. Dave sat snugly in Benson’s backpack, and Kipo had tied Mandu to herself.

Jamack dug his fingers into miniscule chinks in the rock, and kept one foot pressed against the rock face in case he lost a handhold. He’d have used his tongue to swing out and over the ledge, but he didn’t trust the thick moss growing under it to hold any weight.

With a swift push from his leg, he jumped forward and scraped for new irregularities in the rock to hang off of. The cliff’s rock face was mostly smooth, but moss and lichen had eaten small grooves into the stone under the ledge.

Soon enough he reached the edge and felt around it. Less plants, and more sheer surfaces. He brushed a shallow crack and jammed two fingers into it. He tested his footholds for stability, then took his other hand off the wall. He licked it, and smacked it hard against the smooth stone beyond the outcropping’s lip.

Thus anchored, he swung his feet out, earning some yelps from his passengers. “Hold on,” he said, and that was all the warning they got before he thwipped his tongue out and pulled them straight up almost a hundred meters.

Their landing was softer than one might expect, but Wolf’s grip on Stalky had been jarred, and it snapped forward to bonk Jamack in the back of the head—with the brunt side of the deathstalker tail.

“Ow!” Jamack grit his teeth as he tried his best to use what was left of their momentum to climb higher more quickly. “You keep that thing under control,” he growled, “or so help me I _will_ toss it off the cliff. Whether you’re attached to it or not.”

Wolf rumbled unhappily but fixed her hold on the weapon.

Now on a long stretch of vertical rock, Jamack was able to make several more tongue-assisted jumps and close the distance quickly. The next portion was a steep but uphill slant, and promised an easy climb. It would be a nice change after harrowing hours of vertical and negative incline. There was more flaky lichen here, but clumps of the stuff made for decent holds before they crumbled away.

Jamack pulled himself up and scraped some dusty blue lichen away for a more permanent hold. He stopped for a second and rolled his shoulders. “Everyone secure? ‘Cause if you’re not, this is the best time to fix that.”

Kipo, one hand fixed firmly around his right lapel and the other wound tightly in the ropes that ran across his back in a makeshift harness, turned her head over her shoulder. “Mandu? Everything good? Feels nice and tight on my end.”

Mandu snuffled an affirmative. She had her front legs bent over Kipo’s shoulders, and the rest of her splayed against Kipo’s back, again secured with a few stretches of rope.

“We cool, Benson?” Dave asked, stuffed almost entirely into Benson’s zipped backpack, whose straps they had tightened beforehand.

“Uh, just give me a second.” Benson shuffled to grip higher on the rope in his sweaty right hand. He made sure to keep his legs bent back where they wouldn’t trip up Jamack. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

Wolf, settled neatly between Benson and Kipo, had her elbows wound through the harness, and kept one hand free to hold Stalky. Over her shoulder hung the parka, tied into a tight bundle, the foot warmers stuffed into its pockets. “I’m fine,” she said.

“Great,” Jamack said, without a trace of sarcasm.

He pushed off and ascended quickly. The layers of crusty lichen broke free from the rock only a second after he grabbed them, but a second was all he needed to move on to the next handhold.

Wolf studied the lichen that was steadily coating Jamack’s hands. “I don’t get it,” she said. “What’s this fungus stuff doing up here on a rock? Like, why live _here?”_

“Oh!” Kipo turned to look at her, and their noses nearly touched. “It’s lichen! It’s a mix of fungus and bacteria, and they can live almost anywhere! The ones here are probably eating the rock by slowly dissolving it and breaking it apart.”

Wolf raised her eyebrows. She looked over her shoulder at the lethal drop below them and back up at Jamack just as another clump of lichen broke apart in his hand, forcing him to find another hold. “That’s reassuring,” she deadpanned.

The sun was high in the sky, and the air was still. With few livable surfaces within reach, it was unusually quiet.

So when Jamack let out a low hiss, it was impossible to miss.

“Whassup?” Dave asked.

He paused, digging one hand deep into the crags, and shook the other out. When the lichen dust wouldn’t come off, he tsked and wiped his hand on his jacket, leaving a streak of pastel blue. “Making my hands slip,” he mumbled.

“That’s bad,” Dave remarked.

“I’m so glad we have you here to tell us these things,” Jamack sniped absently as he switched hands.

Dave narrowed his eyes and gave him a smug smirk that he couldn’t see. “Aww, we’re glad to have you here too, Jamack!”

Jamack rolled his eyes and sneered. “Uh-huh.”

A few minutes later though, having climbed quite a lot in such a short amount of time, he’d stopped again. “Everything okay?” Kipo asked.

Instead of answering, he flipped one hand over to examine it. There was a sheen of liquid over his palm, spotted with fizzing bits of foam on the raised surfaces.

Kipo gasped. “What…?”

He swiped his thumb across his fingertips. They looked worn and red. “Chemical burn,” he said. “Basic, feels like. Hopefully not lye.”

“Oh my god,” Kipo said. “Oh my god. Do we—? Water. We have water, right?”

“Not yet,” Jamack said, reaching for the next handhold. “No point until I get us out of this lichen.”

“Are you sure?” Benson asked. “It might slow it down?”

“We don’t have _that_ much water,” Jamack countered. “Just… let me concentrate.”

Kipo and Benson obediently fell silent.

“There’s a ledge,” he said. “But it’s a ways off.” He sighed. “I’ll just have to go faster.”

He held the cliff and brought his legs higher, bunching them up. He positioned himself carefully, then launched forward. He landed hands-first and clawed at the rock face. He fell two meters before his nails snagged, and he quickly pulled his legs up to leap again.

His footholds couldn’t take the force, and he slid back another meter.

Kipo shrieked.

Jamack shot his tongue out and pulled a whole chunk off lichen off the wall. As it snapped back, he stopped the end of it with his teeth. He spit out the lichen and shot his tongue off again. This time it stuck tight to the bare rock he’d exposed, and he jumped up and managed to catch a decent handhold. Just the one, but it was better than nothing considering a possible fall of about a thousand meters.

He repeated this method twice more, then hesitated. He licked his lips and grimaced. His hands had been rubbed raw, helped along by the chemical dissolving his skin. He scrabbled upwards, making more use of his as-yet dry knuckles and his feet.

After about fifty meters of rushed ascent, he fwipped his tongue up at the distant ledge—which was, thankfully, devoid of evil blue lichen—and leapt. He caught the edge and hoisted himself up over it. He retreated to the far wall where the cliff continued up and sat down with a loud exhale.

Kipo extracted herself from the rope first, and leaned against the wall to get her bearings and establish her balance.

Benson looked up from where he’d ducked his head into his arm and carefully unwound himself before sitting and shakily unzipping Dave from his backpack.

Wolf squirmed away from Jamack and fell on her butt, Stalky clutched rather more tightly than was strictly necessary.

Dave climbed out of the bag, staring at Jamack. “You okay?”

He looked up from his hands, chest heaving. “How… do you want me to answer that?” he asked dully.

“Truthfully?” Kipo answered, carefully untying Mandu from herself. “Benson,” she said, turning. “Get the water. We need to wash the base out.”

“Soda works too,” Jamack added. He tried to undo the knot at his chest to remove the rope harness, but his slicked fingers just slid off the coils. “Oh, come on,” he grumbled.

Dave hopped over and into his personal space.

“What?” he asked guardedly.

“I’m untying you!” he chirped, and tried to push his hands away.

“It’s got base on it!” Jamack said, knocking him back with an elbow.

“I’ll just grow some new arms,” Dave said, rolling his eyes.

Jamack frowned, but let Dave closer to untie the knot.

Once it was loose, Jamack shoved Dave away with a foot and made quick work of the buttons on his jacket before shrugging out of both it and the harness. He took a deep breath, free of the tight ropes.

Benson set out a water bottle and a can of citrus-flavored soda. Kipo sat close by and looked at the can’s ingredient list.

Wolf padded over and squatted across from Jamack. “Report,” she demanded. “And don’t leave anything out.”

He sighed in resignation, then held one of his hands out for her to see. “Moderate chemical burns, mostly on the palms; shallow cuts and scrapes, and a torn off nail.” He flipped his hand, revealing a mess of pinkish blood where his middle nail used to be.

Wolf nodded. “Nasty.”

Jamack put his hand down. “They were burning, and the cuts stung, but now the top of my hand is burning—“ He interrupted himself with a quick breath. “And I can’t feel my palms.”

“And your tongue?” she asked. Her expression was uninterested, but her attention never wavered.

“Also burned, but not so badly.”

“Mm-hm.” She waved a hand. “Anything else?”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“Sore, tired, dehydrated?”

“Ha.” Hip lips quirked in a wry grin. “Yes; _yes;_ and yes.”

She sat down and tilted her head, peering critically at him. “Anything besides that? Think about it. Be hon—be specific.”

He huffed, but took a second to think, blinking slowly. She’d figure it out herself shortly, and it was too pronounced to hide or suppress effectively, so there wasn’t much point in lying. “Short of breath,” he said finally, quietly. “Faint.”

Wolf hummed.

Benson cleared his throat, catching their attention. “I don’t have any bandages, but we can rinse that stuff off now.”

Kipo stood, holding the soda and cracking it open. “Um, you’re going to want to rinse out your mouth and—“

“Just give me the can already,” Jamack interrupted, gesturing for it. “You think I haven’t been poisoned before?”

She handed it over, nonplussed. “I didn’t, until you said that,” she admitted.

Wolf shrugged. “Mod Frogs,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Jamack swished the drink around and spit it out over the cliff’s edge in an impressive arc. He moved over to sit at the ledge and carefully poured the rest of the soda over one hand at a time, letting it drip onto the incline below. A bit of the tension disappeared from his shoulders. He crushed the can between his palms and tossed it away, sideways, as if skipping stones. He flicked the excess liquid away.

Benson kneeled next to him with the water bottle. Kipo sat behind Benson, farther from the edge, her hand bunched in his sweater.

Jamack reached for the bottle, but Benson pulled it out of reach. “Ah-ah,” he said. “You need both hands to get that stuff off.”

Jamack raised an eyebrow.

Benson leaned out and tilted the bottle slowly.

Jamack quickly stuck his hands into the trickle and began methodically scrubbing blood, grit, and slimy denatured skin proteins out of his cuts.

“Are frogs naturally good at climbing?” Kipo asked after a second.

“Only some,” Jamack answered. “Like Harris; he can secrete glue from his hands. Problem is he’s more inclined to use it as a party trick than a combat tactic.” He smirked. “It’s just as well he’s such a show-off; I’ve stolen a few of his better tricks for myself.”

Out of corner of her eye, Kipo watched Wolf try and shake the blue powder off of Jamack’s jacket. “Did you used to be friends? It sounded like you knew each other pretty long.”

“Friends,” Jamack scoffed. “No. We just worked together. We grew up at about the same time, so yes, we have known each other a while, but we weren’t _friends.”_

She gave a little shrug. “Whatever you say.”

Benson shook the last of the water out of the bottle. “That’s all I got,” he said, dropping the empty container. “Better?”

“Y—“ His hands shot down to grip the ledge as he involuntarily swayed forward. The nictating membranes slid up over his eyes and his breathing unevened.

Benson put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back.

After a moment, Jamack caught his breath and the nictating membranes retracted. There was a brief flash of fear and something else in the look he gave Benson.

The three of them retreated from the ledge. Jamack stiffly examined his hands. “D-didn’t get it all off, but this is an improvement.” His skin was reddish and shiny, and his shredded palms and knuckles bled freely.

Benson shucked off his cat sweater and handed it to him. “Try this.”

With an uncertain look, he accepted the bundle and used one of the sleeves to thoroughly wipe off what was left of the caustic substance. His hands shook. He contemplated folding the ruined garment, then simply handed it back, streaked with blood. “Thanks,” he said, making brief eye contact.

“No problem!” Benson chirped, grinning softly.

The rest of the gang gave Jamack some space; thankfully this ledge was much larger than the first they’d camped on.

Wolf presented him his jacket, folded twice over itself in a manner that suggested she’d never learned how to fold clothing. “Dave and I got most of the lichen off.”

He’d tensed to snap at her, but stopped himself. He leaned closer to inspect the fabric, and found that besides some traces of blue that had caught between the threads and a few wrinkles, his jacket was fine. He reached for it, then snatched back his bloody hand. He cleared his throat and glanced up at Wolf. “Could you put it by the parka? Bloodstains are a pain to clean out.”

“Alright,” she said neutrally, and did just that, draping it over the tightly rolled bundle.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Wolf shrugged.

“You’re welcome!” Dave hollered. He sat off to the side with Benson, who was beginning to lay out the day’s rations.

Kipo scooted closer to Jamack. “Heyyyyy,” she drawled, looking him over. “How you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted.

“Must hurt a lot,” she ventured.

He gave a weak laugh. “Understatement of the century. I can’t tell if the burns are hot or if it just _feels_ like I stuck them in a fire.”

Kipo blinked. “I could?” She laid her fingertips on the top of her opposite hand and held it up. “I wouldn’t touch the actual burns; I promise.”

Jamack sighed, but held his hand out.

Kipo took it delicately, holding his wrist with a few fingers to keep it steady. She brushed her fingertips over a stretch of healthy skin next to a burn on his knuckles.

He winced, but tried to keep his hand still.

 _“Oh,”_ Kipo said, her eyes widening. She tested again with the back of her fingers. “That’s actually—That’s _actually_ hot. And not just for you; I’d be concerned if a human had hands that warm.” She released his hand. “The chemical reaction with your skin must have been exothermic. So you got both chemical burns _and_ heat burns, I guess. Well, all burns are technically chemical in nature but—“ She shook her head. “Er, that doesn’t matter. They’re still different.”

“Lucky me,” Jamack muttered, frowning at his hands.

Kipo squeezed her own. “It’s just the burns that are hot?”

He sat back against the rock. “I wish. They’re the worst, but I’m also just. Uncomfortably warm.” He glanced at her. “Not enough for any harm; just doesn’t feel great.”

“Well, that’s something,” she mumbled.

“Could be worse,” he agreed.

Kipo’s shoulders slumped. “Is there anything else we can do?”

He frowned thoughtfully.

“Not just for your hands?” Kipo clarified. “Just, anything?”

He set his wrists on his knees so his hands hung freely. “Somebody else needs to keep watch,” he said.

“Dibs!” Benson called.

Kipo brightened. “No problem; you’ll need a decent rest after all that. Anything else?”

“No,” he said, sitting up straighter. “That’s it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay! Just let us know if there’s anything else.”

“Sure, sure,” he said dismissively.

Benson announced that food was ready. Dave, Mandu, and the humans gathered together to eat, and Jamack declined, claiming he wasn’t hungry. They knew better than to believe that, but let him be.

They restarted their card game and Jamack sat by himself a short distance away, watching the sun set.

“So,” Wolf said, several pairs in her hand already. “What’s the plan?”

“Win!” Dave said. “Got any threes?”

Wolf snorted and handed over two cards. “I meant for getting up the cliff.”

“Got any kings, Mandu?” Dave asked.

She squealed a negative. She had three of them.

Dave drew a card from the pile on the ground.

Kipo scratched her head. “I can climb alone and then toss a rope down? As long as I’m in danger my mute powers shouldn’t flake out on me. It’s getting them to go away that’s the trick.”

Benson tapped his finger to his chin. He shrugged. “Good plan. Got any jacks?”


	5. Betrayal

Everyone had said their goodnights—even Wolf, albeit quietly—and laid down or settled in to sleep. Benson sat in the middle of the ledge, scanning for potential threats… despite the fact that he couldn’t see in the dark. And it _was_ dark.

Jamack hadn’t talked much between dinner and bedtime. He seemed to be asleep, pressed against the wall with his eyes closed.

The adrenaline had worn off while the others ate, and he’d been doing everything he could to manage—and hide—the pain since then. He’d tried breathing exercises, distracting himself with different pain, thinking hard on an unrelated subject, cooling his hands against the stone—and had ultimately only changed his temperature slightly and accidentally bit the burned part of his tongue.

His heartrate shifted into a higher gear when the others began discussing ways to continue climbing. He knew he couldn’t climb come sunrise, with or without a rope. His breathing picked up, and he closed his eyes while he tried to even out his breaths.

He dared to touch his hands together. The numbness had faded, and pain flared in his still-fresh wounds. His hands clenched in reflex and set off what felt like every nerve from the wrist down, in a cascade of tiny white-hot flames that raced up to set his brain alight.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed a gasp. To his complete and utter mortification, his vocal sac began to inflate, but he swiftly stuck his knuckles in the side of his mouth, propping it open and quietly letting the air escape.

Biting his hand doubled the pain and reopened cuts that had only just closed. That, and he couldn’t breathe anymore; his skin had already dried too much to absorb oxygen, and his lungs didn’t work properly if he couldn’t close his mouth. As he adjusted his hand to bite at his less injured wrist instead, a fat teardrop rolled down his face and dropped onto his shirt.

He shook, curling in on himself, his eyes wide. He had some time while the skin inside of his mouth remained moist enough to breathe a little, but if he couldn’t get himself under control quickly enough— He’d already been breathing too fast, and he was starting to feel lightheaded.

He’d made himself indispensable—and right after that close call with the hibernation fluke—only to incapacitate himself for the second time in as many days.

He couldn’t tell if it had been a few minutes, or several hours. His jaw worked, pressing his teeth deeper into his wrist as his field of vision narrowed, constricted by shadows that had nothing to do with the lack of a light source.

Despite that, a sudden motion caught his attention and he froze.

Benson had gotten to his hands and knees and turned towards him. “Jamack?” he whispered. “You okay?”

Anger joined agony and a growing oxygen deficiency at the front of his mind. What did he care? They were all going to leave him in a few hours anyway.

“Jamack?” Benson repeated, crawling closer cautiously. “What’s wrong? I know you’re awake; I can see your eyeshine.” He paused, then frowned. “Can you say something? You’re freaking me out.” He shuffled forward. _“Are_ you awake?” he asked under his breath.

He blinked, and the world spun violently for a second. The next thing he knew, Benson was directly in front of him, barely a foot from his face and tentatively reaching with a hand. Jamack flinched and kicked instinctively, catching Benson square in the chest.

His breath was pushed out of his lungs with a loud “Uff!” and he landed on the edge of the cliff and began to slide backwards over it. Benson screamed and dug in with his heels, but he was already hanging upsidedown from the knees up.

“What!?” Kipo squawked, jolting awake, jaguar eyes wide.

Her cry broke Jamack out of his shocked stupor, and he leapt forward just as Benson’s feet disappeared over the edge. He shot his tongue out but his movement had triggered another dizzy spell and he missed his mark. He snapped his tongue back and dug his fingers into the rock, grounding himself with a sharp surge of pain. He thwipped again, further and faster, and this time caught Benson’s side with the sticky tip of his tongue and quickly rolled him up securely in a few coils before reeling him back in.

Kipo was at his side, shooting off frantic questions and reaching down with her paws to take Benson’s hand and help pull him up.

Wolf stood behind them, stance wide and Stalky brandished defensively. “What’s going—Dave! Watch where you’re going!”

He clung to the hem of her pelt and accidentally dodged her swipe as he tripped. “What happened!? Where’s Benson!?”

Mandu squealed and oinked, running panicked clip-clopping arcs behind Kipo.

“Here!” Benson gasped as Jamack released him onto solid ground. “I’m—I’m okay!” he reassured them.

Kipo was checking him over and pelting him with questions.

Jamack left him to her and stumbled backwards away from them. He sat down hard and reflexively took a deep breath through his nose, all of his careful control thoroughly shattered. Breathing properly felt wonderful, but the relief was short-lived; his vocal sac filled with air and he released a piercing “Cheeeeerp!”

Wolf spun towards him, weapon raised. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s up here with us?”

“That’s _loud!”_ Kipo complained, wincing.

He continued to recover his breath and dispel the haze that had settled around his mind, but between each breath he let out a plaintive “Cheep-eep-eep-eep!” that echoed off the rock face. He couldn’t help it. His tongue was bleeding, his hands were torn, his burns were weeping, he was thirsty and hungry and tired and everything ached and he was being abandoned _again_ and he was trapped on this ledge—which he’d _kicked Benson off of_ , how _could_ he, the kid would still have a tail if he’d been a frog for pond’s sake—and he couldn’t stop making pitiful sounds and now he was _crying_ again too.

Kipo stood up, pulling Benson back towards the wall. She glanced worryingly in Jamack’s direction, but was focused on Benson. “Stand down Wolf; there’s no intruder.”

Mandu trotted over to Jamack and made soft snuffling noises, trying to figure out how to help.

“Then what’s making—?” She lowered her staff. “…Jamack?” She raised the staff again. “Quit making that noise! You’re gonna attract everything from here to the suburbs!”

Benson finally convinced Kipo that he was fine and she backed off. “Yeah,” he called, raising his voice to be heard above the din. “And uh, why’d you push me off the cliff? And then rescue me!?”

“He what!?” Wolf hissed.

Dave ran towards Benson’s voice and hugged him.

Benson yelped. “Careful! I might’ve bruised a rib or something.”

Wolf stomped up to Jamack. “Hey! Shut up and start answering questions. And if I find out you’re calling someone here, I’ll gouge out both of your big ugly frog eyes with my bare hands.”

Mandu squealed and backed off, turning to go comfort Benson instead. She knew how to do that.

Jamack didn’t have the energy to move. He hunched forward over himself and cradled his hands to his chest. He tried to stop his pathetic chirping, but all he managed was a stuttered “Chirr—rrup!”

“Wolf!” Kipo scolded. She scrambled forward and stepped loudly next to her. “Put it down. I don’t know what’s going on, but—you can’t see him, he isn’t—he’s—“ She turned and got her first proper look at him since waking up. “Ohh,” she gasped. “He looks like he’s in a lot of pain,” she said softly, kneeling down. “Jamack?”

Wolf took a step back and lowered the deathstalker tail. “Of course he is; he ruined his hands. I want to know why he pushed Benson off the cliff!”

“He’s _crying,”_ Kipo hissed at her. “And maybe there was a mistake. He caught Benson, didn’t he?”

“Mod Frogs don’t cry,” Wolf scoffed.

Jamack shot her a glare that could’ve killed if she’d been able to see it.

Benson sat by the wall, Dave in his lap and Mandu under his arm. He looked shaken and was rubbing a hand against his chest, but his voice was steady. “I might have startled him,” he said. “I gave him plenty of warning that I was coming over, but he seemed kind of out of it. I was really close when he kicked me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Wolf said.

“Jamack?” Kipo said. “Can you talk?”

He shook his head slightly. “Cheep-eep!”

“That’s a ‘no,’” Kipo said aloud, knowing that only she and Mandu could see him.

He hesitated, then held his hands out. When Kipo sat up in attention, he slowly formed individual letters with his hands.

Kipo gasped. “Are you—is that—you know Ancient Sign? Or the alphabet anyway?”

Jamack nodded and continued, forming each letter as precisely as he could, even though his hands shook more with every movement. Blood and clear plasma dripped off of them and dribbled down into his sleeves.

Kipo noticed and motioned for him to stop. “You’re hurting yourself! It’s okay; we can wait to talk.”

He glanced up at her and finished the word quickly before drawing his hands back against his body again. He was still chirping sporadically.

“Mistake,” Kipo repeated. “He spelled ‘mistake.’”

“Ah,” Benson said. “I probably caught him off guard then.” He yawned and grimaced as the action stretched his ribs. _“Oof._ Sorry about that. I did try to warn you though. You must have been _waaay_ spaced out.”

“Still not buying it,” Wolf said.

“Would you give him a break?” Kipo asked exasperatedly. “He just hauled our butts up like a mile of vertical rock, half of which was trying to melt him. He could have thrown us off at any point, but he didn’t.”

“But he _did_ throw Benson off!” she argued.

“But then he saved him?” Dave said, more confused than indignant.

Mandu grunted in confirmation and nodded under Benson’s hand.

“It was probably an accident, Wolf,” Benson said. “It’s okay.”

She huffed. “I’ll consider it when he stops ringing the dinner bell.”

“I’m not sure he can right now,” Kipo said. She shuffled close enough to touch him, but kept her hands to herself.

Jamack was only half listening to the conversation. He was getting a better handle on his breathing and his head had cleared a little more, but it only served to put the pain in a sharper focus. He wanted so badly to be _anywhere_ else but here, and only Kipo’s calm attention kept him from leaping for the last ledge they’d stopped at, burns be damned.

That, and the slow realization that if he _had_ cracked Benson’s ribs, they couldn’t leave in the morning without abandoning him too. They _wouldn’t,_ of course, and even if they did, at least he’d have some decent company.

But most importantly, it meant he had more time.

He got a few more steady breaths in before he chirped again. He focused on that; he needed to stop chirping before he could try talking himself out of this mess and back into the group. He couldn’t stop altogether yet, but he could begin to space them apart further and further.

“I said quieter, not slower,” he heard Wolf grate when he tuned back in.

“Jamack, are you okay?” Kipo asked. “I mean, you’re not, but are you getting worse or better?”

He gave her a frustrated look.

She blinked. “Oh, right. Yes or no question. Better?”

He shrugged and gave a single nod.

“Little bit better,” she interpreted. “Can—can I help in any way? Would a hug help?”

He’d begun to shrug, but shook his head sharply at the second question.

“Okay, okay! That’s fine! Um.” She let out a whoosh of air. “Usually when this kind of thing happens in the burrow, you’d have gotten painkillers hours ago. Or a cold pack. I’m… not sure what else might help.” She frowned. “I’m just gonna keep asking until I come up with something. Okay?”

He shook his head.

“No? Do you want me to be quiet?”

He hesitated, then shook his head again.

“Also no.” Kipo tilted her head. “Can I sing?”

“Sing!” Dave cheered.

“No!” Wolf snarled. “Don’t _sing_ to him; he’s a traitor! He pushed—hey!” Her foot was knocked from under her and she fell backwards, only to recover with a flip and pin her assailant. “Mandu! What’s _your_ problem?”

“Calm down,” Kipo said. “He says he doesn’t want me to sing.” She yawned. “What, you want me to just talk?”

Jamack nodded.

“About anything in particular?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, alright. I can do that.” She hummed to herself. “I don’t think I told you how we met the Timbercats! Okay, so, it started after we—uh, flew through Skyscraper Ridge—and we went to try and return me to my burrow—the first one—but when we got there, it was destroyed!”

Jamack let her chatter on as he focused on calming himself and blocking the pain enough to stop chirping, and on what he’d say when he could. Tears had stopped dripping down his face, so he was making some progress at least.

Benson and Dave chimed in on the story occasionally, but Wolf remained silent.

He’d have to leave the group, of course; he just needed them to get off this wretched cliff first. And here he was, thinking he’d earned a favor—not mercy; that had never been on the table—but apparently he’d expected too much.

Again.

…Did they have to be so casual about it though!?

“Jamack?”

He looked up.

Kipo blinked, her pupils now wide enough to catch whatever dim scraps of light they were using to see and reflect it back.

He’d stopped chirping. He was still hurt—in more ways than one; not that he’d admit it—but his vitals were a lot closer to normal.

Wolf had sat down, and everyone was looking at him expectantly. Or in his general direction, anyway.

Jamack cleared his throat. “It was an accident,” he said. His voice had a bit of a rasp to it, but was surprisingly clear. “I was feeling faint again and Benson startled me.” He turned to Benson. “I didn’t mean to kick you.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I should have been more careful. And you caught me, so no harm done, in the end. I didn’t mean to spook you; sorry about that. I was just worried.” He frowned. “What happened there, anyway? I just got a feeling something was wrong and wanted to check.”

“The numbness wore off,” he explained smoothly. “There was… a lot of pain to process. I wasn’t fully aware of my surroundings.”

“Mm,” Benson said, nodding. “That figures.”

“It _doesn’t,”_ Wolf interjected.

“We’re getting to that,” Kipo told her.

Jamack’s heart stuttered. “You—you don’t believe me? It _was_ an accident! Why would I kick Benson off the cliff in the middle of the night after I spent all day carrying him _up_ it? It was a reflex! He was in my face!”

Kipo sat up and waved her hands. “Woah! No! No, we believe you! I meant we’re getting to Wolf’s question. About those noises you were making.”

“Oh.” He gave a long sigh. “Well?”

“What were you doing?” Wolf asked. “What do those sounds mean?”

He huffed. “Well first of all, I wasn’t calling anyone. Let’s get that out of the way.”

She crossed her arms.

“It’s a physiological and _involuntary_ response to stress,” he grumbled. “I was dealing with the pain, and that was stressful, and it got to a point where it was too much and it triggered that response.” He frowned. “It doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

Wolf raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t start peeping—“

 _“Chirping!”_ he corrected, offended.

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “What _ever_. You didn’t start that until _after_ you kicked Benson off the cliff and caught him. You were stressed before, when he was checking on you, but not chirping. Explain that.”

He bared his teeth at her—a rude mannerism picked up from mammal associates.

“Uh—“ Kipo stiffened, watching him. “Wolf, maybe—“

“No,” Jamack interrupted. “No. I’ll _explain_.” His voice dripped with acid. He stood up, swaying slightly before he got his balance, and glared right at Wolf.

Kipo made a whine of objection, but bit her lip when Jamack continued.

“I wasn’t chirping then because I was _asphyxiating_ myself in an effort to keep quiet. I was faint because I couldn’t _breathe_ , just so I wouldn’t wake anyone and reveal just how _pathetic_ I was, how bad the burns really were, how I couldn’t handle them; because crying gets you _nothing_ and I had to be strong and useful and _fine_ because the moment you’re not you get _discarded_. That’s just what _happens_.” His voice grew to a roar. “And you’d already decided to leave me here, so I don’t know why I even _bothered!”_

Wolf gaped.

Kipo covered her mouth with her hands, and tears gathered in her eyes.

Benson looked like he’d been slapped.

Dave’s antennae were pinned back against his head and his eyes were wide.

Mandu lowered her head to the ground and kept still.

Jamack sneered. “You act like such goodie-two-shoes, but you’re the same as everyone else. Worse, even! At least the Mod Frogs were up front about kicking me out! You made such a show of trying to treat me, then turned around and decided I was dead weight! It only took you a couple seconds to file my name under ‘acceptable losses.’ You didn’t even consider trying something—something different—“ His voice cracked. “—So I could come with you tomorrow,” he seethed, a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

He took a deep breath. “I hate you,” he summarized.

Kipo sniffed. “W-what… what are you talking about?” She stifled a sob. “We—we’re not _going_ tomorrow. We’re gonna w-wait until you’re healed enough to—to climb the rope.”

Jamack took an unsteady step backwards. “…What?”

“That—that’s the plan,” Benson confirmed. “Stay on the ledge. What did you think…?”

Jamack gasped for air. “Wh—But—“ He reeled and stumbled back. “I thought—I thought you were going to leave in the morning. Without me. Because with my hands like this, I can’t—“

Kipo shook her head.

“Dude,” Dave said softly. “We wouldn’t do that. You’re our friend. We _like_ you. And friends take care of each other.”

“But you didn’t _say—“_

“It was implied,” Benson said. “We _never_ considered leaving you here. We… didn’t say it out loud because we thought it was obvious.”

“We’d all just kinda silently agreed on that part,” Wolf said quietly. “I assumed you’d picked up on it too; you seemed so calm. It didn’t even occur to me that you might have misunderstood.”

“You’re just making that up now,” Jamack accused. “It’s just convenient now that Benson’s hurt too.”

Benson shook his head. “I’ll get a decent bruise, but I could climb if I had to. This is what we meant to do the whole time, ever since we saw your burns.”

“But you’ll lose time…” He gave a miserable sigh and dipped his head. “…I don’t understand.”

“You thought we were going to leave you just because you got hurt?” Kipo said.

Jamack shrugged, staring at the ground. “Shouldn’t you?”

“No,” Wolf said in a low voice.

Jamack’s head snapped up. He pointed at her with a trembling hand. “I want to hear _you_ elaborate on that. A minute ago you were ready to kill me.”

She groaned and put her head in her hands. “Kipo’s better at this thing,” she grumbled.

“Kipo’s explanation won’t make sense to me,” he said flatly.

Kipo pouted. “I try my best!”

Wolf huffed. “Fine. And I was only going to kill you if you really had tried to murder Benson.”

Jamack shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Wolf yawned. “So here’s the thing. If we only wanted you for your usefulness, it _would_ make sense to leave you here.”

He frowned.

“But we don’t,” Wolf said. “We want you around, but not for that reason. And since all the reasons we _do_ want you around are still valid, we shouldn’t leave you.”

His brow furrowed. “What other reasons are there?”

Benson winced. “Yikes.”

Wolf shushed him. She took a deep breath. “Well, we like you as a person. You’re… good…” She scrunched her nose. “And because of that we also want to keep _you_ alive and okay. We could have just taken the mountains, remember? But we didn’t because we didn’t want to get you killed.”

“Why?”

“Because when you’re in a pack, you protect everyone in it, and everyone else protects you. That way nobody ever has to fight alone.”

Jamack’s eyes widened. “You consider me a part of your pack?”

Wolf nodded.

Everyone else nodded too.

“Huh.” Jamack sat down carefully.

She frowned in frustration. “Look, I don’t know how to deconstruct this whole thing, so just listen and maybe you’ll get it.” She sat up. “You saved our lives, and that means a lot. Especially after what it cost you. And that’s another thing; you didn’t seem to have any friends. That’s… a rough place to be in. I would know.”

Kipo sighed sadly.

Wolf rubbed the back of her neck. “And you’re just… likeable? You’re smart, and you know your way around the surface, and you take things seriously, and you don’t give up when you want something. You listen, you notice things, you work hard—you have some weird morals but you care about things…” She looked off to the side. “And I know I teased Kipo for it, but even I’d be sad if you died. You’re kinda cool.”

Jamack took a deep, slow breath. “I…” he said softly. “I think I understand.”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His brows furrowed. “Do you mean those things?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Wolf said gravely.

He turned to Kipo. “And you’ll really wait for me?”

 _“Yes,_ Jamack,” Kipo said firmly.

He looked up at the sky. “Well now I feel stupid.”

“Naw,” Dave said. “You’re just not used to having friends. You’ll learn; Wolf did!”

Wolf grunted, but didn’t disagree.

Benson gasped. “Oh! I can prove we planned to stay!” He felt around in the dark. “Where’s my backpack? Last night we all had half of what we usually do. I can show you—if I can just get the cookie sleeve—“

Jamack’s lips quirked up in a smile. “No, that’s alright. I believe you.”

Benson looked back, one hand on the backpack’s zipper. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He ducked his head. “Look… the chirping—it _is_ a stress response, but it’s a little more. It can mean a few things, depending on context. It’s a bit of a holdover from before the mutation.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Kipo said.

“No,” he agreed. “But I want you to understand. One of the triggers is feeling trapped or pinned in place, even if it’s just psychological. Fear, a sense of imminent danger, or extreme pain can also set it off, but not always.” He looked away and grimaced. “It’s not a common sound to hear. The last time I heard someone chirping like _that,_ they were being swallowed alive by a snake. Slowly. Black leather Chelsea boots first.” His shoulders hunched. “Sadists,” he hissed under his breath.

“Wow! Gross!” Benson declared.

Dave tapped his chin. “That’s weird, I thought they usually ate things head-first.”

Benson raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying they have a _preference?”_

“They do, but they don’t seem to care as much when it comes to frogs,” Jamack said.

Kipo looked dismayed. “You mean you felt that bad and we didn’t notice?”

“Oh, don’t blame yourself,” he said lightly, completely glossing over the first part of her question. “I’ve had decades of practice hiding what I feel.”

Kipo let out an exasperated sigh. “Come back over to the middle of the ledge, and we can see if there’s anything we can do to make you more comfortable.” She backed up and led Wolf over to Benson, Dave and Mandu.

Jamack got up and joined them, sitting against the wall near Benson and Dave. “Well,” he said, watching as Kipo pulled Wolf closer—but not too close—on his opposite side. “This isn’t going to heal right without more water, so the best we can do is hope for rain, really.” His eyes lit up. “Might make climbing easier too, come to think of it.”

“Easier?” Wolf leaned over, disbelief on her face.

“For me, yes; I’ll stick better. For you, I doubt it.”

“Super,” she deadpanned.

“Actually,” Kipo said. “I have an idea.”

“Yes?” Jamack asked.

“I could try rubbing your shoulders and see if that’s okay?” She put her hands up when he gave her a confused look. “My friends and I did it in chorus class; it’s supposed to release muscle tension. Might help you chill out enough to get some rest? If you don’t like it I’ll stop.”

He sighed, barely flexing his blood-crusted hands and wincing hard. “Fine.”

Kipo grinned. She scooted closer and pulled her hands up to rest lightly on Jamack’s shoulders. She started with a simple up and down slide over his shoulder blades.

Jamack had initially gone tense. He rearranged his legs and repositioned his arms, and realized that despite the weight at his shoulders, it would only take a small movement to break away, and he was welcome to do so at his discretion. He took a measured breath and slowly let himself calm down.

Benson sprawled out on his back with a short yawn.

Dave used his shin as a headrest, taking the cue to go back to bed.

Wolf wrapped her pelt around her shoulders and curled up on the rock where she could see everyone. She kept one hand on Stalky.

Mandu sidled up to Jamack and nuzzled his knee. She ignored his halfhearted protest and settled down next to him.

Kipo switched to swiping with her thumb, pressing harder.

Jamack flinched at the change, but took a long breath and relaxed again.

She continued for a few minutes, varying the pressure, then settled on a harder one, repeating the same motion over and over.

Jamack noticed absently that he felt less exposed than he usually did, sitting by himself on the stark rock ledge. He tended to distance himself from the rest of the group when they stopped to sleep.

It was well past midnight, and the sun would rise in just a few hours. But it didn’t matter, because they weren’t traveling at sunrise today. The air was cool and dry. It was even darker than the previous night; it was a new moon, and there were just enough clouds to dull the starlight.

He felt a poke at his leg and looked down at Mandu. “Hm?”

She blinked pointedly and turned each set of eyes in a different direction. She oinked and nodded her head at the expanse of open air beyond the ledge.

“Alright,” he said. He glanced to his right. “Benson; Mandu’s relieving you of watch duty.”

“Ohh, good,” he sighed. “’Relieving’ is exactly the right word. Thanks Mandu.”

She gave him an amiable snort and settled her head back down.

After a beat of silence, Jamack spoke up. “Are you alright Benson?”

“Huh? Oh, that.” He yawned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Hell of a bruise, but nothing’s broken. You kicked me pretty far, and I can’t imagine you were at full strength anyway, at that point.”

A second passed, and a smirk spread slowly across Jamack’s face. “Are you trying to soothe my ego? Do you think I’m disappointed that I didn’t accidentally break your bones?” He chuckled.

Benson coughed, then grimaced as the motion jostled his ribs. _“Well,_ er. When you put it _that_ way…”

“Of all the things to think I’d be embarrassed about.” Jamack shook his head. “Ridiculous. Well, I’m very glad to hear that I, Jamack, a _frog,_ am still very good at _kicking.”_

Benson giggled. “That’s not what I meant!” he protested.

Jamack snickered. His smile faded. “Are you okay though?”

Benson turned his head towards him. “Yeah. I’m alright, Jamack. I’ll be sore for a few days and really deep breaths are gonna hurt through tomorrow probably, but it’ll heal up fine as long as I don’t mess with it.” He paused. “Aw man; sneezes are gonna _suck.”_

Kipo snorted.

Dave patted his leg sympathetically. “I won’t put a leaf in your face,” he assured him.

“Stop _talking,”_ Wolf grumbled. “I’m trying to _sleep.”_

After a few stray comments, they all quieted down to try and make the best of the few remaining hours of darkness.

Kipo kept herself amused by pressing different patterns into Jamack’s shoulders. Eventually she got tired of that and started tracing all the digits of pi that she could remember.

By that time, Jamack’s eyes were two-thirds closed, and his shoulders sagged as if the muscles had begun to melt. His breaths came slow and even.

Wolf, Benson, and Dave fell asleep one by one, while Mandu dutifully kept watch.

Kipo had just thought to quietly say goodnight before she drifted off as well, but to her astonishment, when she glanced over, Jamack had already closed his eyes and fallen asleep.

Kipo smiled and moved over to lay on her stomach next to Wolf, and in a minute joined her friends in a well-deserved rest.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The alternative pathway](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082464) by [Hunters_Trash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunters_Trash/pseuds/Hunters_Trash)




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